


American Made

by LondonGypsy



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Christian through the years</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Made

**Author's Note:**

> Always wanted to write a fic about these boys using some of their own lyrics and Im quite happy with the outcome. 
> 
> As always - huge thanks to my beloved SuperWhoLockGypsy for being awesome; all remaining mistakes are mine!!

 

 

**_Well down in Panama City, they’ve perfected the art of the tan... _ **

 

It’s hot and the humidity makes his hair curl in all directions, driving him nuts. Eventually he has enough and opens his bag, trying to find the hairbands he knows he packed. Sweat drips from his forehead and he feels it run down his spine. 

“C'mon, where the fuck are you?” he murmurs, throwing shirts and socks onto the ground, ignoring the glances of the people walking past him. 

He digs through his entire bag without success. 

Frustrated, he throws his stuff back into the bag and reaches for his guitar case, hoping to find some forgotten rubber bands in there. 

“Here, you look like you need it more than I do.” 

A hand appears in his sight, holding a black scrunchie. Christian looks up and into the face of a blonde guy, grinning at him. 

“Take it, I have another one... somewhere,” he chuckles, nodding towards a bag, similar to Christian's. A battered guitar case leans against it, looking like it’s being held together only by the shitload of stickers plastered all over it. 

His smile is wide and infectious and Christian can't help but grin back. 

“Thanks man,” he says as he twists his hair back, sighing happily as the damp curls give way to the stale air conditioning in the airport. 

“Is this your first time in Florida?” the guy asks casually. He sits on the ground, cross-legged, and blinks up to Christian as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

“Uhh,” Christian is caught off guard for a second; he's not used to that kind of approach. He's pretty shy around strangers and usually keeps to himself. 

The guy cocks his head and eyes the guitar case curiously. 

“You play?” 

Christian nods, still not knowing what to say. 

But the guy only smiles that wide smile again and leans back, pulling his own case over. 

“Let's play,” he says, already opening the lid. 

Christian frowns at him. 

“What?? Here? This is an airport, dude.” 

Christian shakes his head; this guy is nuts. 

“And??” he replies, still smiling, “those people look like they need some music. C'mon, let me see what you can do.” 

He raises an eyebrow at him, a challenging look in his blue eyes. 

“Or do you only carry it around for the chicks?” 

Christian snorts. 

“I can play, if that's what you mean,” he shoots, a hint of steel in his voice. 

The guy chuckles, pushing his long blonde hair out of his face and starts tuning his instrument. 

The people walking by glare at him but Christian notices the amused looks and even a smile here and there. 

“Ahh, fuck it,” he grumbles to himself and retrieves his guitar. 

“What do ya wanna play?,” he asks while fumbling with the pegs, trying to hide a sudden nervousness; he never played with anybody else.

“Do you know _Luckenbach, Texas_?” 

Christian's rolls his eyes and snorts. 

“Of course.” 

The guy chuckles again and something in that low sound makes Christian's toenails curl. He swallows, lowers his head and starts strumming, quickly getting lost in the music. 

He forgets the people around him, where he is and where he wanted to go. 

The other guy joins in, easily following through the song, supporting Christian, adding more depth to the sound. The music just flows, and Christian realizes that he has never played that well. He knows that he isn't the best but with that guy? He had never managed to play that flawlessly or fluidly as in this very moment. 

It’s just them and their guitars; Christian drifts off and feels as if he could keep going forever. 

When they finished, Christian looks up, grinning widely. 

“That was fucking great,” he blurts out, blushing at his own outburst. 

“At least you don’t carry the guitar as decoration,” the other one says, eyes sparkling like sapphires, enhancing the light tan of his face. 

He sticks his hand out, winking at Christian.

“I'm Steve.” 

Christian laughs loudly as he reaches out. 

“I'm Christian,” he says and takes the hand. 

It feels like an electric shock as their skin touches and Steve's eyes lock with his, darker now but still shining intensely in the bright light of the airport hall. 

“Nice to meet you, Chris. We should do that again.” 

Yeah, Christian thinks, that would be cool. 

 

**_ And those Oklahoma girls they sure know why they call it heartland… _ **

 

Steve wanders through yet another airport, sipping on his coffee, waiting for his flight to start boarding. He's humming lowly, watching the people hurrying around him. 

I’m spending way too much time at airports lately, he thinks, as somebody bumps into him from behind. He can hardly keep his coffee from spilling all over him and he curses loudly. 

“Geez, sorry, I didn’t....hey, what are _you_ doing here?” 

Steve had turned and as he looks up he's greeted by too-blue eyes and a cloud of dark hair, curling around a familiar face. 

“You??” 

“Hey, didn’t think I'd see you again.” 

Christian’s voice is raspy and his smile shy, but it lights something in Steve's stomach, a spark maybe, feeding a tiny fire in his gut that feels good. 

“Wow,” is all Steve can say, staring into these fucking blue eyes wondering why he never called. 

They had exchanged numbers back at that hot airport almost 6 months ago but Steve never found the time to actually call the guy. 

He was on the move all the time and every time he thought about calling him, something changed his plans and he postponed it. 

“I tried to call you but your number wasn’t valid anymore.” 

Christian sounds a little hurt, but maybe Steve’s imagining that. 

“Shit, I lost my phone a while ago. Should have texted you the new number...” 

Inwardly he curses heavily; he totally didn’t think about that maybe the other man had tried to call him. He bites his lips, avoiding having to look the other man in the face. 

Christian shrugs but he sounds a little off. 

“Thought you didn’t want to talk to me...” he trails off, shrugging. 

“Hell no. I would have loved to see you again,” Steve says and the eager tone in his voice makes Christian look at him with narrowed eyes. Steve blushes and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Well,” he says, “it was real fun playing with you.” 

Christian's mouth curls into a small smile. 

“Yeah, it was.” 

He grabs his bag a bit tighter and Steve notices that there's no guitar case this time.

“No playing today, huh?” he asks. 

“Nah, visiting my family for Thanksgiving.” 

“You have family here?” 

“Yup, born and raised in Texas,” Christian grins. 

The speakers come to life and Steve hears his flight getting called. 

“Shit,” he groans, “ that’s my flight.” 

Christian's smile falters and that’s something Steve can't endure. 

“Hey, you still got that number you gave me?” he asks hastily, pulling out his phone. 

Christian nods. 

“'Okay, I'll call you now. Save that number. I'm going back to Cali for the holidays but I have some days off after that and....” 

“I have friends in L.A. I wanted to visit if my family ever lets me go again,” Christian interrupts quickly with a sheepish grin, “maybe we can meet there then...” 

He sounds excited and Steve can't hold back the same tone in his voice. 

“Yeah, that would be great.” 

He scrolls through his phone, finding Christian's number and hits the dial button. 

In Christian's bag a song starta playing and he pulls the phone out, grinning widely now. 

Steve ends the call and waits while Christian saves the number. 

“Hey, I don’t even know your last name, “ Christian scowls while he fights with the phone. 

“Carlson. Steven Paul Carlson.” 

Christian looks up, raising an eyebrow at him but doesn't say anything. 

“Hey, you wanted my name, now you have the full one.” 

Steve chuckles but the second announcement through the speakers makes him squirm. 

“Shit, I gotta get going. Call me, okay??” 

He doesn't know why it is so important to him; he was the one who didn’t call after all but if he wants to see Christian again, he has to. 

Christian nods absently, still fumbling with his phone. Later Steve has no idea what made him do it, but he takes a step closer and hugs the other man tightly. 

Christian stiffens for a second before he clumsily returns the hug. Steve pulls back, feeling his cheeks flush but he feels like it was the right thing to do. 

He grabs his bag, swings it over his shoulder and with one last “Call me” he hurries to his gate, suppressing the urge to look back. 

He shows his ticket, and as he walks through the door he throws a quick look over his shoulder, immediately meeting Christian's blue eyes. He hadn’t moved, is still standing where he was as a soft smile lingers over his lips. 

Steve blushes again and gives him a short wave before he turns and hurries down the isle to his plane. 

On board he falls in his seat as his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

As he pulls it out there's only a short message: _Kane, Christian Kane. Happy Thanksgiving_. 

Steve's smile last all the way to L.A. 

 

**_ Oh, and up in Seattle, boy they'll have you prayin' for rain... _ **

 

Christian stares out of his cheap hotel window, watching the rain run down the glass. It’s too early to be up but he can't sleep anymore, so he is settled at the bench by the window, watching the dark, cloudy sky get a bit lighter. 

A notepad lay beside him, the pen in his hand, humming quietly, scribbling words and notes down. He wished he had his guitar – his fingers are itching to try out that lick that occupies his mind and made him wake up in the first place. 

But it’s too early to play, the walls are too thin, so he sits here, writing down bits and pieces of lyrics that come to his mind. He can put them all together later; for now he's okay with just sitting here.

His phone tears him out of his own headspace and he glances at it. A grin breaks free as he sees who it is. 

“Why are you up already?” he laughs softly as he picks up. 

“Could ask you the same, man. It’s in the middle of the night.” 

Steve's rough voice washes over him and makes something in his stomach curl. 

“Actually it’s early morning, very early, but it’s morning.” 

He hears a snort and he can picture the other man's face exactly, wrinkles on his forehead, nose crinkling but a smile on his lips. 

“Dude, you're weird,” Steve says after a little pause and Christian hears soft murmurs in the background. He frowns and the little fire in his belly dies. 

“Why are you calling this early, man?” he asks, voice suddenly plain, and he can hardly hide the growl in his tone. 

“Whoa, what's up, man? I didn’t wake you, did I? Why the pissed tone?” 

Christian shrugs annoyed. 

“Apparently you have company. Shouldn't you have other things to do than call me?” 

“Dude, I'm at a party and I wanted to tell you that I just met this guy from the radio. But if you don’t wanna hear what...” 

Christian is glad that the other one can't see him because a deep blush creeps over his face and he bangs his head against the window. 

“Chris? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Uhm, what did you want to tell me?” He tries to sound normal, rolling his eyes at his own weird behavior.

“Well, this guy. He owns a little bar here in L.A and he's looking for some new faces. I told him about you and he'd love to see, and more importantly, hear you. Is there any way to can come down here and meet with him?” 

Christian feels embarrassment and excitement chasing through his veins; this is the chance he's been waiting for. But he knows something for sure. 

“Would you join me?” 

Steve gasps on the other end.

“Huh?” 

Christian takes a deep breath and sorts his thoughts. 

“Listen, man, I am only a decent guitarist but I know I can sing. You are a genius with the guitar. Would you come with me? If that guy would let us, that is?” 

He holds his breath, waiting for an answer. 

He isn't sure what makes him ask him or why he waits with closed eyes but deep down inside he knows that he wants this. 

“I have to ask the guy but from my point...hell yeah, why not? We're a good team from what I can tell,” he chuckles softly. “Unless you don’t mind me being slightly annoying sometimes. You should know, pretty heavy perfectionist here, among other bad habits.” 

Christian huff a relived sigh.

“Don’t worry, I guess we can work with that. I'm not an angel myself.” 

Steve laughs that warm laugh that has Christian's neck prickle. 

“I guess so... but we wont know until we try, right?” 

Christian slumps against the wall in his back, not realizing that’s he grinning stupidly. 

“Cool. So, when do I have to be where?” 

 

**_ And those Tempe, Arizona women all have you beggin' for shade. _ **

 

The sun burns down mercilessly, making the concrete sizzle and the air too thick to breathe. But Steve enjoys the heat and stretches contently on his lounger. He eyes the pool but he's too lazy to get up. 

It’s midst August, he just arrived and he has no intention on moving anytime soon. 

The next few weeks will be busy and exhausting enough. Christian had sent him an email with the dates for their little tour. Steve is still wondering how exactly they want to pull that off without falling asleep on stage after the first few days. 

He doesn’t know who Christian had to bribe into letting them play all those bars, but as long as they'll be able to play at all and make some money with it, he won’t ask. 

He rolls on his stomach and the sun warms his back within seconds, as he feels the thin sheen of sweat all over his limbs and he sighs blissfully. 

His phone beeps and he reaches under the lawn chair, where he put it, glaring at the screen. 

_Landing in PHX in 2 hours._

Steve only grins as he types his answer. 

_Best Western Inn. See you in a bit._

He puts the phone back under the chair and closes his eyes, the sun hot and soothing on his back. 

 *

A shadow falling down on him wakes him from his dozing. 

“Dude, you're burnt.” 

Steve bites back a grin at the low growl and he lifts his head just enough to see Christian watching him with narrowed eyes. 

“Hi,” he says, blinking into the sun. 

“Seriously, your back is as red as a cooked crab, man.” 

Steve scowls at him and sits up; he doesn’t get sunburns, he's from fucking California, he's used to the sun. 

“I don’t...” he counters but yelps in pain as Christian pokes a finger to his shoulder. 

“Oww, shit man, what the hell??” 

“Told you so,” Christian smirks and falls into a chair, “you better get something on that or you’re gonna shed skin like a snake tomorrow.” 

His grin has gotten devilish as he watches Steve stretching his back carefully. He whines as he becomes fully aware of the damage on his skin. 

“Shit,” he curses heavily, trying to get a look at his burning backside. 

Christian's snickers again and Steve shoots him an angry look. 

“Not funny, Kane. How am I supposed to have my guitar-strap over that, huh???” 

Christian winks at him and opens his backpack. 

“You’re lucky that I packed some after-sun-shit. I bet you’re glad now that I have that sensitive Okie skin, eh?” 

He digs through his stuff until he finds the bottle with the lotion and waves it theatrically at Steve. 

Steve grumbles loudly but Christian motions him to turn around. 

“Hold still,” he mumbles as he pours some lotion on his hands. 

Steve hisses as the cold liquid comes in contact with his skin but quickly relaxes as Christian spreads it carefully over his back. 

His hands are gentle and Steve's eyes fall closed as he realizes that it doesn’t hurt. Christian's hands are cool, his touch soft and Steve gets lost in the hypnotic up and down of the other man's motions. 

He almost purrs as Christian massages the lotion into his skin, his shoulders slump down and he wants nothing more than to lean back against the other man, having him doing this... What the hell?? He stiffens a bit and Christian stops immediately.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” 

Steve shakes his head, trying to sound as normal as possible even though his heart is beating way too fast. 

“Nah, It’s okay.” 

“Good, just lemme....” 

His voice trails of as he continues to slide his palm over Steve's back, more careful now and Steve can't suppress the shudder that runs through him. 

Christian must have felt it, too because he pulls back and hems roughly. 

“Uhmm... I guess that’s enough. You should get inside, though. Maybe... “ 

“Yeah... I'll do that...” 

Suddenly there's tension between them, almost touchable, but as Steve turns Christian avoids looking at him; he’s already heading inside and Steve's gaze follows him until he disappears in the shadows of the hall. 

He can still feel Christian's hands on his back and his stomach does a little 360. He can't help but wonder what else those hands might be able to do. 

Slowly he wanders inside, deep in thought and as he gets to the front desk, Christian gets his key. He joins him, even though he's not sure if that’s smart right now. There are way too many confusing thoughts in his head. 

“Are you up for a drink?” Steve asks, grinning sheepishly at Christian, who shakes his head. 

“Nah, man, I'm freakin' tired. Gonna take a nap. Maybe later?” 

Steve shrugs although his stomach clenches a bit. 

“Sure, later. I guess I should go and find me a shadowy place then,” he mumbles and turns to leave towards the patio. 

He doesn't see the dark eyes following him or the slight frown on Christian's forehead before he turns and walks towards his own room to get some rest. 

 

**_ And from that valley girl talk to that southern belle drawl... _ **

 

“Dude, you're fuckin' drunk,” Steve says, words dragging out slowly, trying to focus his blurry view. 

“And you ain’t??” Christian replies, raising both eyebrows at him, looking like a curious owl. 

Steve giggles and empties his glass, glaring around the bar. 

He leans over the table and whispers:

“Dude?” 

Christian's hazy eyes stop at him and he scrunches his nose as he tries to focus on his friend.

“Huh?” 

“We're the last ones here,” Steve says earnestly, like it’s a big secret, but the giggle that bubbles up destroys the effect. 

“No shit Sherlock,” Christian says dryly and chuckles silently, swirling the ice in his empty glass. 

“We should prolly leave,” Steve adds but doesn't make any move to do so. 

“We prolly should do that,” Christian repeats but he remains in his seat, sleepily grinning at Steve. 

“You were great today,” Steve smiles at Christian, “they really liked the last song.” 

“Hmmm,” Christian buzzes, shifting in his chair, “you weren't bad either. The chicks really dig your sappy, sad shit.” 

Steve's brows narrow and he scowls at Christian, the smile wiped from his friendly face. 

The other man cocks his head, trying to figure out what makes him do that but his attention span isn't the best tonight. He's still high on adrenaline from the cheers and drunk from too much beer and Jack. 

“You okay, man?” he asks, putting his glass on the table. 

Steve shakes his head but as Christian frowns at him he forces a grin on his lips. 

“Yeah, it’s all good. I guess we really should go, the bartender looks like he wants to kick us out...” 

His voice trails off and he pushes his chair back, staggering to his feet. 

Christian watches him for a moment before he does the same, grasping for a hold on the chair. He realizes how drunk he is and going by the concentrated look on Steve's face the man isn’t really sober himself. 

While Steve stumbles to the tiny stage to get their instruments, Christian strolls to the bar to pay the bill; they had a couple of drinks and he's sure their paycheck for the little gig tonight didn’t include them. 

Steve packs the guitars and meets Christian at the door before they leave into the stormy night. 

“Shit,” Christian grumbles as the wind blows harshly against them, “I don’t wanna walk in that weather. Shall we call a cab?” 

Steve looks up and down the empty street and than back to Christian, shoulders hunched, dark hair flying loosely around his head in the gusts. 

“I don’t think we'd get one tonight. C'mon, it’s not that far to the motel. As long as it ain’t raining...” 

“But it’s fucking cold,” Christian pouts as he pulls the thin jacket closer around himself and grabs the guitar case tighter.

“Don’t be a baby, c'mon.” 

They walk down the sidewalk, staying close to the houses to avoid the biting wind. 

10 minutes later – they can already see the lights of their motel – the first heavy raindrops fall down on them. 

“Fuck,” Christian curses, pressing the case with his guitar closer as Steve hopes they can make it to the entrance dryly. 

No such luck. Suddenly it’s pouring down and within seconds both men are soaked. They run the last few yards to the door and stumble inside. 

The lobby is empty; it’s late already and the concierge is probably long time gone. 

“You got your key, don’t ya?” Steve asks, searching his pockets for said item. 

“Uhh...” 

Steve looks up. Christian stands there, water dripping off of him, his hair sticks to his cheek, clothes clinging wet to him, accentuating every muscle, outlining his body. 

Steve stares. His eyes wander over his chest, the shirt like a second skin over it, up Christian's neck until he stops at his mouth, unable to tear his eyes away. 

“I wanna kiss you,” he murmurs, the urge so deep, so strong he can't hold it back. 

Christian stiffens, forgetting the rain, the cold or the search for his key. 

“What?” he croaks and Steve tears his eyes away from his lips and finds his eyes, looking at him shocked and confused. 

Steve makes two long steps and closes the distance between them. 

He's only inches away from the other man, who's frozen in place, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Steve swallows hard; he can feel Christian's warmth, can smell the mix of rain, whiskey and Christian. 

“I wanna kiss you,” he drawls, alcohol and the overwhelming want making him slur the words. 

Christian's face is blank but Steve can see his brain rattling; he knows him well enough by now. He sees the confusion and the irritation in his eyes but then there's that hint of wonder that has him shiver. 

“Then do it.” 

It takes a moment for Steve to process the words, to fully understand them. Christian's hand around his wrist is like an electric shock and his voice is dark and raspy as he repeats the words. 

“Do it. Kiss me,” he murmurs roughly as he leans closer towards Steve. 

His breath is warm on his cheeks and without thinking Steve brushes his mouth over Christian's lips. A deep buzz fills his ears, deafens him and he forgets everything around him. 

Christian's mouth on his is warm and gentle, all he expected and dreamed of, and nothing like it. The kiss is chaste and innocent but it turns Steve's world upside down and he knows it will change everything. 

Only a moment and Christian pulls back, breathing too fast. Steve reluctantly opens his eyes, not wanting this moment to pass. 

Christian looks at him, blue eyes dark and intense, sparkling in the lights of the lobby. The corner of his mouth curls up, just a little bit. 

“You can do better, Carlson.” 

The teasing tone in those words makes Steve's stomach flip and with a moan he curls his hands around Christian's waist, pulls him as close as possible and shows him that he can indeed do better. 

Outside the storm increases and sends hard rain against the front, splattering heavily against the glass doors. 

 

**_ Well there's a Tennessee girl who will always have a place in my heart… _ **

 

“Nashville, man, fucking _Nashville_!! Do you have any idea what that means?” 

Christian grins as he hears the excitement in Steve's voice, even over the phone. 

He just landed – he was still at the airport – but he had to call to let him know he arrived safely. 

Well, and that he wanted to hear his voice? Nah, that wasn’t the reason; not at all. 

“I know. Hey, you wanna come down??” 

He can hear the pleading in his words and thinks he shouldn’t sound that damn needy, but he can't hold back. 

He hates to be on his own; without Steve even the huge opportunity here in Music City isn't the same. 

Steve sighs on the other end and Christian knows the answer already even before the other one puts it in words. 

“I’m sorry, man, you know, I'd love to but...” 

Christian sighs, but forces a smile on his face anyway. 

“It's okay. I'm sure one day you'll come here and then I can show you everything.” 

Steve laughs softly and a quiet little fire lights in Christian's gut; he's still amazed at the feelings Steve's voice causes in him. 

“You'll do just fine, Chris. Just be yourself and everything will work out.” 

Christian tries to swallow around the lump in his throat as he hears the trust in Steve’s words. 

He stares at the luggage carousel, not really seeing anything, faintly wondering when he became so sappy. 

“Chris? Are you still there?” 

He shakes his head and smiles, not caring that Steve can't see him. 

“Yeah, sorry, man... Still here.” 

He sees his suitcase appear and takes it, slowly wandering towards the exit. 

Steve's telling him what he did today, just babbling, but Christian can hear so much more in his random ramblings: all the little “miss you's” and the “wished you were here's”; the tiny hints that Steve misses Christian as much as Christian misses him. 

But neither of them actually voices it and Christian is thankful for that. Their relationship is still pretty new and Christian still needs to get used to the fact that he's with a guy. 

Sometimes he lays in bed, wondering how this all happened. To him. A Texan, as straight as they come, falling for men. But he has quickly realized that it’s not all men, just _one_ man. 

Steve. His Steve. 

With a smile bright as the sun and a voice smooth as 30-year-old whiskey, washing over him like a warm summer rain. 

With that dirty humor that makes him laugh so hard that his sides hurt. 

And then again he's able to get to Christian like nobody else ever did, get under his skin with his music and his songs, making Christian want to spend every spare second with him. 

“Chris?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

Christian grins sheepishly, focusing back on the man on the other end. 

“Yeah, I am.” 

Christian hears him snort and can almost see him raising an eyebrow at him, and he laughs. 

“I gotta go, man. I'll call you tonight, okay?” 

“Your diversion tactics have been better, dude,” Steve grumbles, but Christian can hear the smirk. 

“I'll work on that,” he teases back and walks through the doors outside, taking a deep breath of the moist, warm air that greets him. 

“Talk to you later, man,” Christian says and waves at an empty cab. 

“Okay. Oh hey, Chris?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Go, get 'em, Tiger.” 

The click of the disconnected call is echoing in Christian's head along with the words, and he can't stop grinning as he climbs into the taxi. 

 

**_ And those Broadway beauties, they sure know how to play their parts... _ **

 

The traffic is insane. It’s too loud, it stinks and it’s the complete opposite of the lazy life on the West Coast. Hectic, busy and distracting. He hates it. 

But it’s just what he needs. 

Steve sits outside his hotel, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, watching the people running by, faces shut down, shoulders hunched and grumpy. 

The sky is gray and angry clouds chase over it; it fits Steve's mood perfectly. He's deep in thought, wondering how his entire life went to the shits. 

He's here, sitting in New York, escaping his old life, trying to leave the hurt and the pain behind. 

“Yeah, that works quite well,” he murmurs to himself, taking the last sip of his cold coffee and dropping the cigarette into the moist cup. 

He stands and throws the cup into the trashcan as his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, frowning at the screen, not really wanting to know.

Without reading he switches it off and puts it back in his pocket. Just another one of his friends, he thinks, probably wanting to check on him. 

But he just wants to be left alone; he doesn't want to talk to any of them. 

In the beginning there were so many calls, asking if he's okay, offering help and support and he was thankful for it. But that one call he waited and hoped for never came. 

After a while he gave up hope and tried to move on. It’s hard, it hurts like hell, but he slowly gets back to a normal life. Very slowly. 

It’s been almost a year now and he still feels the deep pain like it was yesterday. 

The call from Nashville. Christian's voice, shaking, telling him Sony wants him. His excitement and joy. And Steve was so happy for him. But as he flew down to celebrate with him, Christian was quiet and after some poking he told Steve that the record label wanted him – and only him. As a solo artist, not with a band. It was like a punch in the gut. 

Steve kept a straight face, hiding his disappointment as they really tried to make it work. But after a while real life caught up; they were fighting all the time, about songs Christian wanted to use, about gigs Steve wanted to play with him but the label wouldn’t let him. Small things, but they built up, dominating and eventually destroying their life together. 

Steve withdrew; slowly but surely he pulled back. Christian didn’t even notice it, he was too busy playing good dog for the record company. 

One day Steve had enough; he packed up and left. He couldn’t stand it anymore. 

He fled as far away as he could and New York seemed the best choice. 

He sighs; his family and his friends were always there for him, giving him the strength and the will to move on. They didn’t know about their relationship, they still think it’s about getting kicked out of Christian's musical life, but that didn’t make it hurt less. 

But there are still times when he just wants his old life back, the band and Christian. Most of all, Christian. He misses him with every fiber of his being, and his heart still feels sore and broken. 

But that part of his life, the touring, the fun on stage, just everything that defined his – _their_ \- life, is gone. Over. Christian's gone and Steve is still missing him like hell. 

He sighs deeply and wanders back inside the hotel. He had a gig last night and it was pretty late when he got back. But he was lying awake half the night and now he’s tired; a nap seems pretty likely right now, even though he sleeps pretty shitty lately. 

Actually, when he thinks about it, his sporadic insomnia has gotten worse since he has been sleeping alone again. He wishes for one full night of sleep once in a while but it never happens, so coffee has become his best friend. 

The only good thing about this not-sleeping shit is that he writes his best songs in the middle of the night when everybody else is asleep: when the city is quieter and only the lights blink through the darkness, when dreams are filling the air and wishes are almost touchable. 

He walks up the stairs and digs in his pockets for the key, and as he walks around the corner and lifts his head his breath hitches. A strangled sound escapes his mouth, and he can only stare. 

Christian looks terrible: his hair is matted, his skin is too pale and his eyes are red-rimmed, dark shadows under them telling Steve he isn’t sleeping either. He has lost weight; his shirt is too wide and the jeans are slack around his legs. His gaze is sad and he's nervously kneading his hands, though he looks straight into Steve's eyes. 

Neither of them moves; they just look at each other, blue eyes too easy to read, and as Christian hesitantly reaches out, Steve's at his side in a heartbeat. 

“I'm so fucking sorry.” 

Steve flinches at his hoarse words, and again, he hears all the things the other man doesn't say, the regrets and the self-reproaches, the mistakes he made and the hope for a new beginning. 

Steve doesn't hesitate, he can't. His fingers tangle with Christian's, like they used to and it feels just right. 

“I know,” he whispers, kissing him gently, and it’s like coming home. 

Christian stays, and Steve sleeps the entire night, wrapped tightly around the man he can't be without. 

 

**_ Well Lousiana ladies got a mojo that makes you want to stay… _ **

 

The club is loud and the cheers are deafening. The lights on stage are blinding him but he still can see the beaming faces in the front row. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, he feels pretty light-headed and he can't stop grinning. 

“Let’s do another one,” he yells over to the others, because he can't and doesn’t want to stop just now. 

Steve's face is glowing in the bright spotlights and he nods. 

He starts playing a lick, raising a questioning eyebrow at Christian, asking him mutely for agreement. Christian's grin got even wider and he literally bounces over the stage. He checks quickly on the others but they are catching up already and easily join in. Ryan's drum sticks whirl through the air so fast, Christian only sees blurs. Will strums his bass and Jay's already letting out his inner rockstar. 

Christian couldn’t be happier when he steps to the mic and sings the first few words of _Seven Days_. 

When they finish the song he steps back, letting the cheers and applause wash over him, eyes closed as a soft smile lingers on his lips. 

Suddenly, there are strong arms wrapping around him from behind and he leans into Steve, seeking his warmth and strength. 

“Is this real?” he murmurs as he turns, hugging Steve tightly. 

He feels the other man chuckle. 

“Yeah, man, this is real. You made it, Chris.” 

Christian shakes his head and presses him a bit closer before he lets go. 

“ _We_ made it.” 

Steve's face lights up a bit more, if that’s even possible, and Christian's heart clenches at the sight of that. Blue eyes are sparkling, his smile is as bright as the sun and Christian still can't believe that this is his again. 

The rest of the band joins them, there are lots of hugs, shoulder claps, and laughs as Christian feels like he’s dreaming. 

They take the usual bow to their audience before they stumble off stage, high on cheers and booze. 

Steve falls onto a couch, satisfaction pouring out with every move he makes. 

Christian glances around in the room before he sits next to him, brushing the blonde hair out of his face. Steve's eyes narrow and he frowns a little, his gaze darting over to the three other musicians in the room, and he pulls back a bit. 

“Chris, no...” he murmurs but Christian shakes his head. 

“Nah, man, they have to know. I don’t wanna hide it, not from them.” 

“But...” 

“No buts, c'mere.” 

Christian tangles his hand in Steve's hair and pulls him into a kiss. 

Steve is stiff, not returning the kiss and Christian growls against his mouth, pressing closer against him. 

Steve is struggling, wanting to withdraw but Christian doesn’t let him. 

Sure, they can't yell it out to the world, not now, not yet. They just had the big breakthrough they’ve worked so hard for, and he knows the Country Music scene won’t like it but he isn't willing to hide it from the band. He bites Steve's lower lip softly, grazing his teeth over the warm flesh and with a resigned sigh Steve gives in. His limbs go loose and his mouth opens, letting Christian's tongue slip in and he moans quietly as their tongues meet. 

Christian forgets everything around them, gets lost in the kiss, feeling Steve's body against his, smelling that intoxicating scent that drives him crazy, and he can't hold back the groan in his throat. 

He faintly realizes that the talking around them has stopped but he concentrates on kissing Steve until he feels his dick uncomfortably hard against his fly. 

He nips on Steve's lip one last time before he lets go, forehead leaned against Steve's, searching his hazy gaze, holding it and assuring him mutely that it’s okay. 

“Uhmm, guys???” Ryan's warm voice interrupts the perfect silence in the room and reluctantly Christian turns his head into his direction, a bit concerned at what their reaction will be. 

Ryan's eyes are watching them sharply and Christian swallows hard, then a smile curls his mouth and he raises his beer. 

“Way to let us know, huh? Get a room, you two,” he grins, amusement audible in his tone. 

Christian feels Steve relax a bit next to him but he himself waits. 

Will observes them both closely, frowning but then he shrugs and Christian turns to Jason. 

“Jay?” he asks carefully. 

“Hey, as long as you two are happy,” the man says, winking at him, “I don’t care.” 

Christian huffs a deep breath and faces Steve whose eyes are dark and he smiles. 

“See,” he whispers, pressing a short kiss on the tip of his nose, “all good.” 

Steve snorts but mirrors his expression. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, squeezing Christian's hand, “I need a drink.” 

He gets up and wanders to the table with the catering. Christian leans back into the couch, relieved that it worked out just like he planned it. 

He's usually not the guy to blurt everything out but he figured, if...when their gigs were successful, he wouldn’t be able to hide his relationship with Steve. The band at least had to know, he already had told his manager a while ago and Eric is also cool with it. 

The fans, and he grins at the term, didn’t have to know, though, but that’s okay with him. 

A glass with whiskey appears in front of him and Steve nudges his foot with his own. 

“Stop musing, man, I can hear you thinking all the way across the room.” 

Christian takes the glass and Steve sits back down, raising his glass. 

“To us,” he mutters, searching Christian's eyes. 

“To us and the success,” Christian replies, clinking his glass against Steve's 

Yeah, the success will come, he's pretty sure about that and he’s looking forward to experiencing that with this man at his side. 

 

**_ Yeah but there's a city full of angels always waitin’ on me home in LA… _ **

 

It’s raining, and the air is filled with a warm mist, wafting over the skyline and making breathing hard. 

He misses the snow and the cold, and he already misses his family. The holidays are the only time he finds the time to go back and he usually enjoys it to the fullest. His mom was in tears when he packed his stuff to fly back and had begged him to stay, at least until New Year's but Christian was restless and homesick. He loved his family and the time back in Oklahoma, but his heart was somewhere else, pulling him towards the West Coast, to warm and wet winter days and a pair of light blue eyes. 

He pushes the door open, dropping his bag in the hallway and takes a deep breath. Yeah, he missed this. He sheds his jacket and he strolls into the living room. He laughs loudly as he enters the room: there is a tiny Christmas tree waiting for him, complete with cheesy decoration and a wrapped gift under it. 

_Welcome home_ , the card on it simply says and the smile breaking free on his lips almost hurts. 

He carefully unwraps the gift and opens the lid of the package. He swallows hard and bites back a groan as he takes the framed recipe out. 

It’s nothing fancy, just a simple wooden frame with a piece of paper, neatly written. But it means so much to him and he swallows hard. 

He pulls his phone out and texts a quick message: _It’s beautiful, thank you_. 

The answer comes within seconds: _Mom says she will kill you if you share that with anybody. Merry Christmas_. 

Christian puts the phone away and reads the recipe again. This is the most amazing gift he's ever gotten. He has no idea what Steve had to do to get it, probably lots of bribing and promising that they'll visit more often but Christian doesn’t care. Sandy and Chris are his second family and he'd do anything for them. 

He wanders into the kitchen and puts the frame on the counter, right next to Steve's cookbook and his own collection of recipes. He looks at it for a moment before he grabs a beer from the fridge and walks to the window, watching the rain pouring down over the City of Angels. 

He has always felt rootless, his place usually being the current hotel room or the stage he was playing. Always on the run, trying so hard to accomplish the dream he had since he was a kid. 

It wasn’t a bad thing, no, but he'd always known that there had to be more. 

Now he found it. Not a place, though, although this house, its four walls, feels like the place to be. 

No, his home is with the man who is currently celebrating Christmas with his own family. Tonight, though, they will celebrate their own holiday, just the two of them, here, at the one and only place Christian wants to be.

He smiles and suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds, just a small beam, illuminating the ocean and letting it sparkle in blue and gray. 

Yeah, this is home. 

 

**_ I can hang down in Texas while them girls sing along, living on Lone Star beer and Pat Green songs... _ **

 

Football Sunday. A cold beer in his hand, his team winning this game and a soft breeze coming in through the wide-open windows, curtains flowing lazily in the warm wind. 

He glares over to the other man on the couch, eyes glued to the huge TV screen, cursing loudly and his heart jumps a little. 

The other one seems to feel that he's watching and tears his attention away from the game; two bright blue eyes drilling into his. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, lips curling into a quick grin. 

“Nothing.” 

“Mkay,” and with a frown he directs his focus back to the TV. 

Christian keeps looking, watching him, letting his eyes wander over long dark blonde curls, twisted into a messy ponytail, bobbing with every move he makes. 

His profile is unique and Christian would recognize it everywhere. 

High and sharp cheekbones, flushed pink now in his anger over his team losing, that tiny hunch on his nose where he once broke it when he was a little kid, and the tip that goes a bit upwards. 

His lips, plump and full, all inviting and sexy as hell but also able to curse like a fucking sailor, making even Christian blush with shame. 

A striking chin, covered in stubble because he forgot to shave this morning, and Christian knows exactly how it feels, soft but still rough, like an old stuffed teddy, worn but still fluffy. 

His eyes wander over his neck and his chest, muscular and tanned, a sweat drop running down and disappearing into the tight tank top he's wearing. 

Christian can't look away now and Steve feels it because he looks over again despite the game going into a critical phase right now. 

“What??” he asks again, irritated tone in his voice. 

Christian only shakes his head and his hand gets a life of its own, running up Steve's arm. His fingers are outlining the tattoo on his upper arm, skin a little damp under his fingertips and he snickers as he sees the goosebumps appearing. 

Steve's eyes narrow as he watches Christian's hand wander further up, over his neck and than down his chest, just a light touch, feeling the muscles under the thin fabric working. 

The game is forgotten, Steve's complete focus is on Christian now, who is deeply absorbed in running his hand over Steve's belly, hard and solid. 

“Whatcha doing, man?” Steve mutters softly, moaning silently as Christian's finger brushes over his rapidly hardening dick. 

“Admiring the view,” Christian replies roughly. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at him but Christian’s warm palm covers his cock and he groans again. 

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make when I touch you...” Christian whispers as he leans over and kisses Steve's neck, licking over the skin and making Steve shiver. 

He feels Steve's dick, pulsing and growing under his touch and he squeezes softly and gets rewarded with another low moan. 

“God, Steve....” he murmurs and then his mouth covers Steve's, kissing him frantically, drowning in a kiss so deep and demanding, his entire body is shaking when he pulls back. 

He's gasping for air and Steve's gaze is burning into his, dark and seductive. 

“Chris....” and it’s the sweetest music to his ears. 

“C'mere,” Christian growls and pulls Steve against himself, sinking back into the cushions. Steve's body is radiating heat against his own and wherever their skin touches, sweat breaks out. 

Their mouths find their way back to each other, kissing and biting softly, moans filling the room along with the sounds of the game still on the TV. 

“Shut that off,” Christian grumbles while tugging on Steve's shirt. Steve complies and after searching around on the couch to find the remote, silence falls, only interrupted by their harsh breaths. 

Hands roam over naked skin, causing shudders and little groans, whispered words and soft pants. Clothes fall to the floor, naked flesh presses against bare skin, sweat slicks the friction they seek. Lips, teeth and hands finding all those spots that make the other one lose control, gasps and cries fill the air, names moaned like prayers. Bodies melting into each other, thoughts have no meaning anymore, there are only feelings, and instinct. 

Afterward, calming breath and hushed vows, sweat cooling feverish skin, and the deep urge to stay just like that, hearts beating slowly in the same tact. 

Lazy Sundays. Football. Beer. And the man you love. Good times. 

 

**_ Getting’ knee deep in that Alabama red clay... _ **

 

Another city, another hotel room, another gig tonight. Steve doesn’t really remember which state they are in but he doesn't really care. He has everything he needs right here, with him. He plugs on his guitar, silently because Christian is talking on the phone. 

Christian disconnects the call, not moving, panting heavily and Steve looks up from his place at the table. 

“Chris??” 

Something's wrong, and he's up and at Christian's side in a heartbeat.

“Hey!! What is it?? What happened? C'mon, man, talk to me.” 

Christian turns to him, eyes wide and unfocused and Steve's heart starts beating faster. 

“What happened?? Anything with your parents? Mine?” 

He shakes Christian's shoulder, panic seeping through his body and he tries to calm down. 

Christian stares at him, blue eyes blank and huge and Steve's brain is running all Worst Case Scenarios as a smile lightens Christian's face, so bright and intense that Steve's breath hitches. 

He relaxes a bit and slaps Christian's head gently. 

“Geez, man, don’t shock me like that,” he grumbles and releases his death grip on Christian's shoulders. 

“We got picked up.” 

Steve doesn’t understand.

“Huh?” 

Christian picks him up and swirls him around. Steve's dizzy as he sets him back down, beaming at him. 

“Leverage, Silly. The show got picked up for a second season.” 

He's radiating pure happiness and Steve can't help but smile back. 

“That's amazing, Chris.” 

He wraps his arms around the other man, pulling him closer even though he feels a little sting in his stomach. 

Christian's babbling, telling him what Dean, who apparently was the one calling, has in store for the second season, but Steve's thoughts are somewhere else. 

He blinks as Christian pokes him in the chest. 

“Hey, you aren’t even listening,” he says, pouting adorably and Steve grins. 

“Sorry, man. I'm happy for you... really... it’s just....” he stops, not knowing how to make it not sound desperate but Christian understands him without words. 

His hands cup his face, kissing him gently. 

“You know what the best part of this is?” he asks, eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Steve shrugs and Christian leans closer. 

“We're going to shoot this next season in Oregon.” 

He waits a moment to let the words sink in, but since Steve is still not reacting, he pulls him to the couch and makes him sit. 

“Listen, I know, it’s gonna be tough for you and me but I know we can do it. Steve, we already went through the worst that could have happened to us.” 

He flinches as Steve smiles sadly but he continues talking. 

“It’s closer to LA, you can come up whenever you have some spare time and we're only shooting in the summer, so we still can tour over the winter. Hey, you can move in with me if you want – I can try to find a condo big enough for the both of us.” 

Steve thinks about that; it’s pretty compelling. It’s not that far away from either LA or Nashville where they have their stable places. He's working on his own music a bit more lately, which keeps him from going crazy when Christian isn't around. 

He sighs softly and leans against Christian who instantly wraps his arms around him.

“You know,” Steve buzzes, “that might actually be a good idea. That Beth girl seems to have a crush on you. I could make sure she doesn't molest you...” 

Christian rolls his eyes and presses a kiss on Steve's head. 

“Nothing to be jealous of, dude. She knows I'm not into women.” 

Steve shoots up and glares at him. 

“She knows?” 

“Yup. Told her right from the start. And she's pretty cool with it.” 

He chuckles but then his eyes darken and he caresses Steve's face, looking him deep in his eyes. 

“Told her that I found the one I wanna spend the rest of my life with a while ago, and that I don’t wanna trade that for any woman in the world.” 

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and leans over to kiss Christian roughly. 

“That's the closest you ever came to saying “I love you”,” he murmurs against his lips but there's only warmth in his voice. Christian hasn't said it to him, not ever, but Steve doesn't need it. He knows with every fiber of his being that Christian feels the exact same way for him as he does for Christian. 

They don’t need the words to let the other one know, they see it on each other’s faces and in their actions, hear it in their songs every time they get on stage. 

“I do, you know.” 

Christian's breath ghosts warm over his lips and Steve leans into the hand that’s still on his cheek. 

“I know,” he whispers back and Christian kisses him, slow and deep, leaving them both panting and flushed as they break apart again. 

“C'mon, we have a crowd to rock,” Christian murmurs as he hesitantly stands up, reaching out to pull Steve to his feet. 

“Right,” Steve sighs, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed with Christian. 

They gather their stuff together and Eric picks them up, driving them to yet another venue. 

But neither of them cares where they are. They are together and that’s everything that counts. 

 

**_ Oh up in Indiana, man rolling in the hay... _ **

 

“Where are we?” 

Christian glares out the window, eyes bleary and he yawns loudly. 

Steve glances up from the book he's reading and throws a look outside. 

“Uhm... dunno... looks like the Midwest?” he shrugs and goes back to reading. 

Christian shakes his head; they've been on the road for too long now. They don’t even care where there are anymore. Everything looks the same, every hotel, every city, every venue. 

The perks of finally having a CD out, a real CD. Christian still can't grasp it but the small pile of them on the table next to him says otherwise. 

He stands up and wanders along the aisle of the bus. A smirk settles on his lips; their very own tour bus and he's still pretty proud that they have one now. 

He passes by Ryan who's slumped back in his seat, legs on another one, sleeping and snoring softly. 

Christian chuckles and Will looks up from putting new strings on his bass. 

“What?” he grunts, and Christian shakes his head. 

“Nothing, man, just need to stretch my legs.” 

Will grumbles and continues with his doings. 

Jason lounges in the back of the bus, his long legs crossed while he plays a video game on the little TV. Christian rolls his eyes and Jason grins his trademark smile at him before he focuses back on the game. 

Christian wanders up and down the aisle, loosening his stiff neck muscles and rubbing his temples to get rid of the headache that begins to pound behind his eyes. 

As he walks by Steve for the third time, he looks up and puts his book down. 

“Christian, please. Sit down, you're making me nervous with your running around.” 

Christian obliges and falls on the seat next to him, closing his eyes for a moment, groaning.

“Headache?” Steve murmurs, his voice low and soothing. 

Christian nods weakly. 

“Let me...” 

Steve moves on his seat until he's leaning against the window and pushes and pulls Christian around until he's settled between his legs, with his back against Steve's chest. 

“Relax.” 

His hands slide over Christian's shoulders, just a faint touch but than he starts kneading the hard muscles there and Christian flinches at the pain. 

“I said relax, man. You're tense as hell.” 

He tsks and lets his hands glide up to Christian's neck, massaging the skin and digging his thumbs deep into the tense muscles. 

He starts humming lowly, his chest is vibrating against Christian's back and his breath calms down, instinctively adjusting to Steve’s deep and slow one. 

His hands run over his head now, kneading gently through his hair, his fingertips roaming soothingly over his skull. 

“You know,” Steve mumbles, “we should take some time off after tonight. Just you and me,” 

“Hmmm, that sounds pretty good, man,” Christian mewls, shifting a little closer as his hands roam lazily over Steve's legs. 

“We can sleep in, get up when we want, just hang around with no clothes on....” Steve purrs into his ear, biting softly at the earlobe and Christian shivers. 

“Yeah, or just stay in bed all day...” he suggests hoarsely, his hands tighten around Steve's legs, fingers digging a bit harder into his flesh. 

Steve’s hands wander down over the back of his head, his shoulders and come to rest on Christian's chest, fingers trailing slow patterns over his shirt. 

Christian leans back and closes his eyes, getting lost in the touch and the feeling of the other man. 

Steve's still humming into his ear, surrounding Christian with music and he dozes off, head against Steve's shoulder. 

The bus drives along, the landscape flies by and finally they pass the first signs. 

“Indiana?” Steve murmurs into Christian's hair, “wow.” 

Christian's chuckles with still closed eyes, his hands covering Steve's on his chest. 

“Ya know, we should write a song about this.” 

“Hmmm?” 

Christian's thumb rubs over Steve's rough hand, feeling the calloused fingertips and the warm skin. 

“About all the cities we've been to, all the places we've played, the way we met...” 

Steve laughs roughly, tangling his fingers with Christian's and squeezes. 

“You think we could make a song outta that?” 

“Sure, why not?!” 

Steve lifts their joined hands and kisses Christian's knuckles, one after another before he leans down and brushes his lips over his temple. 

“We can try.” 

Christian smiles and as the bus stops, they reluctantly detangle themselves from each other and go to get their stuff together. 

As they walk towards the hotel, Steve bumps his hip against Christian's and grins as he scowls at him. 

“I already have a title for that song,” he says, winking at him. 

“You have??” Christian stops and looks at him curiously. 

Steve nods, smirking evilish.. He glances around and than leans in, whispering: 

“ _American Made_.” 

Christian laughs out loud, throwing his arm over Steve's shoulder and says:

“That’s the most cheesy title for a song I've ever heard.” 

Steve pouts and elbows Christian in the side, muttering insults but Christian only laughs louder. 

“C'mon, man, we have a gig to do.” 

His arm still over the other man's shoulder, they wander over to the hotel where the rest of the band waits for them. 

“What’s so funny?” Ryan wants to know, handing them both their room key. 

“Nothing,” Christian says, nudging Steve as he opens his mouth to chime in and he grumbles. 

“Let’s get ready, shall we? Heard there's some dust to rock of some peoples heads.” 

 

**_ And over in Hawaii you can find yourself lei’ed... _ **

 

Christian laughs out loud as Steve wanders into their room, one flower lei around his neck and one on his head. 

“Dude, you totally look like the hippie that you are,” he grins, throwing his own lei on the nightstand. 

“Well, I _am_ a hippie. Didn’t you know that?” 

Steve looks at him with theatrically-wide eyes, biting back the smile on his lips. 

Christian only laughs again, head thrown back and Steve's heart wants to jump out of his chest. 

He steps closer and pulls Christian against him, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“God, I love it when you laugh like that,” he mutters, voice dropping lower and Christian shivers at the huskiness in it.

He tugs on the flower chain on Steve's neck, brushing lightly over his bronzed chest. Slowly his fingers slide to the few buttons that aren’t open and undoes them. 

“You know what _I_ love?” he asks quietly, shoving the shirt down over Steve's arms. 

“No. What?” His answer is rough and his voice low. 

“You. Naked. Only with that lei thingy.” 

Steve shudders heavily in his arms. 

“Yeah?” 

Christian leans in and kisses him deeply, moaning against Steve's welcoming lips. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs as his hands slowly glide over Steve's back, feeling his skin soft and damp under his palms. 

“I guess that can be arranged,” Steve mumbles, pushing Christian back until he falls on the bed. 

He sheds the shirt and his shorts and Christian's swallows hard at the sight of Steve's naked body.

The sun shines warm through the open windows and surrounds him with light, making him glow. 

“C'mere, you hippie,” Christian growls and reaches out for the other man. 

Steve's happy to oblige and slides onto the bed, his fingers brushing over Christian's legs, hips and his chest. 

“You have way too many clothes on,” he whispers as he reaches Christian's lips, kissing him deeply. 

Christian chuckles and gets his own shirt and jeans gone. 

Steve watches him undress with clouded eyes, his gaze wandering up and down Christian’s body, letting his fingertips follow. 

“You are beautiful,” he states quietly and Christian blushes. 

Steve shifts closer, pressing against Christian’s warm limbs, his palm roaming restlessly over his chest, stunned at the goosebumps appearing everywhere. 

Christian rolls on his side, tangling his legs with Steve's and kisses him fiercely, circling his hips against Steve's groin. He smiles as the man moans into his mouth, answering with a slight buck back. 

“Tease,” he groans, hands gripping tighter, rubbing harder and both are getting lost in the sensation their touches cause. 

Christian gasps as Steve bites his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth before he lets him go. He leans back to look him deep in the eyes. 

Christian is once again amazed at all the things he can read in those blue eyes, all the things neither of them find the words to say but trusting the other one to just _know_. 

“Happy anniversary,” Steve whispers suddenly, his hand cupping Christian's cheek, the flower chain he still wears swiping lightly against Christian's skin. 

He furrows for a second before his mind catches up and he smiles widely. 

“15 years, man.” 

Steve mirrors his smile, his thumb tracing slow patterns over Christian's cheek, drinking in his sight. A few more wrinkles, a few more lines; the years didn’t leave them out but underneath there's still that sweet, gorgeous face he saw at that airport years ago. 

“15 fucking years,” he answers silently, kissing him quickly before he pulls back again, searching Christian's eyes. 

Silence falls and both men just drown in each other’s eyes, not talking and still assuring the other one, telling him all the things they don’t have words for. 

“I remember that first day as if it was yesterday,” Steve whispers, wonder and amazement in his raspy voice and Christian shudders at the tone. 

“I know. I thought you were nuts,” Christian's admits softly.

Steve chuckles, the tiny wrinkles around his eyes deepening. 

“I saw that and still... I had to try, you know...” 

“I’m glad you did.”

“Look at you now, all grown up and mature. Successful actor and musician. The girls adore you and...” 

Christian pulls him closer, closing Steve's mouth with a long deep kiss.

“I don’t care about anything as long as you're here with me. I couldn’t have done anything without you. You know that.” 

His voice is shaking and Steve closes his arms around him, pressing his eyes shut and ignoring the sting behind his lids. 

“You would have done just fine without me,” he mumbles into Christian's hair. 

“No.” 

Just one word but it takes Steve's breath away and when he leans back and looks into Christian's face he sees it all written over it: the sorry's and the shit they both fucked up but also the good stuff, the things they've accomplished - together. 

Now the tears are falling and he bites his lip. Christian's lips flutter over his face, kissing the salty drops away. 

“I wouldn’t want to be without you. Ever again.” 

His lips find Steve's mouth and there isn't any talking anymore. Just hands and mouths, wordlessly showing what they sing about every night. 

Soft pants fill the warm air, blowing through the open door, cooling damp skin and heated flesh, carrying the smell of summer and dreams. 

Later, when they lay between crumbled sheets, breath slowly calming down, limbs tangled, there are words. Hesitant and low, whispered against tanned skin, only audible for the other one but that’s all they need. 

They knew all along. All the way back to that hot day at the airport when they first met. 

A random meeting, a friendship, developing into something deeper, something neither of them can't really describe but they know they are where they belong, and that’s enough. 

“To the next 15 years.” 

“To the rest of our lives.”

And the sun is setting, throwing its golden beams into a room that holds the past, present and future of two men, brought together by music and a dream. The dream of making a living with their passion and their love for the music they play – together. 

 


End file.
